“Stop, stop stop. You’re doing it wrong.” The spoon was snatched out of his hand, and Dirk blinked, frowning up at the interloper. The silver spoon balanced from Yumil’s fingers like a cigarette from a 1950s audrey hepburn. “you stir without clanking. Otherwise it’s annoying.”

“Does it really matter?” Dirk asked, “It’s stirring. With a spoon. In coffee.” He made sure to raise an eyebrow to emphasize just how stupid Yumil was acting.

“Just… Do it right, alright. You gently scrape the bottom.” Yumil’s brows furrowed, and he gave the spoon back. “It’s one of my pet peeves.”

“A pet peeve?” Dirk demanded.

“Yeah. A pet peeve. Like when I pick at those lumpy little bits on the socks you knit.” The derision in his tone was matched by the sarcastic tilt of his body as he plopped into the other, matching, floral-print armchair they’d bought at some or other garage sale.

“That’s completely natural. It’s not nice to pick at things made for you. I work hard on those damned socks.” Dirk’s eyes strayed to the lumpy, soft yarn sitting in the bin he used to hold it while he was knitting.

“Just accept it.” Yumil sighed. “Everyone’s got their pet peeves.” He started poking off fingers as he counted their friends. “Eamon’s hair getting in her eyes. Anelace being cut off in traffic. Lette hates being interupted in conversation. Espin can’t stand the sound of a dripping faucet, and Jorgan’s always getting annoyed when he finds hair in his food.”

“That’s natural too. Your hair gets everywhere.” Dirk’s nose crinkled in annoyance. It was true. His partner’s long hair shed like a husky, and it always ended up in some form or another in the food they ate. “You really should tie it up before you cook.”

“Oh shut up.” Yumil answered, good-naturedly. He changed the channel on the tv to the home and gardening network.